How to Think Like Warren Buffett, Part 21

Filed in archive Investing on April 26, 2007

Another installment in my thrilling 30-part series on the wisdom of Warren Buffett, as seen through his annual Letter to Berkshire Hathaway Shareholders.

Part 21 takes us 10 years back, to 1997...

1997 was a good year for Berkshire Hathaway:

Our gain in net worth during 1997 was $8.0 billion, which increased the per-share book value of both our Class A and Class B stock by 34.1%. Over the last 33 years (that is, since present management took over) per-share book value has grown from $19 to $25,488, a rate of 24.1% compounded annually.

But Buffett was far from impressed:

Given our gain of 34.1%, it is tempting to declare victory and move on. But last year's performance was no great triumph: Any investor can chalk up large returns when stocks soar, as they did in 1997. In a bull market, one must avoid the error of the preening duck that quacks boastfully after a torrential rainstorm, thinking that its paddling skills have caused it to rise in the world. A right-thinking duck would instead compare its position after the downpour to that of the other ducks on the pond.

So what's our duck rating for 1997? The table on the facing page shows that though we paddled furiously last year, passive ducks that simply invested in the S&P Index rose almost as fast as we did. Our appraisal of 1997's performance, then: Quack.

As he has in almost every year of the preceding decade, Buffett again explains that Berkshire's rate of growth simply can't continue:

Our rate of progress in both investments and operations is certain to fall in the future. For anyone deploying capital, nothing recedes like success. My own history makes the point: Back in 1951, when I was attending Ben Graham's class at Columbia, an idea giving me a $10,000 gain improved my investment performance for the year by a full 100 percentage points. Today, an idea producing a $500 million pre-tax profit for Berkshire adds one percentage point to our performance. It's no wonder that my annual results in the 1950s were better by nearly thirty percentage points than my annual gains in any subsequent decade. Charlie's experience was similar. We weren't smarter then, just smaller. At our present size, any performance superiority we achieve will be minor.

This analogy shows how Buffett sees the problem of having resources to allocate, but not much worth allocating them to:

Under these circumstances, we try to exert a Ted Williams kind of discipline. In his book The Science of Hitting, Ted explains that he carved the strike zone into 77 cells, each the size of a baseball. Swinging only at balls in his "best" cell, he knew, would allow him to bat .400; reaching for balls in his "worst" spot, the low outside corner of the strike zone, would reduce him to .230. In other words, waiting for the fat pitch would mean a trip to the Hall of Fame; swinging indiscriminately would mean a ticket to the minors.

If they are in the strike zone at all, the business "pitches" we now see are just catching the lower outside corner. If we swing, we will be locked into low returns. But if we let all of today's balls go by, there can be no assurance that the next ones we see will be more to our liking. Perhaps the attractive prices of the past were the aberrations, not the full prices of today. Unlike Ted, we can't be called out if we resist three pitches that are barely in the strike zone; nevertheless, just standing there, day after day, with my bat on my shoulder is not my idea of fun.

Buffett offers a quiz that points out most people's irrational thoughts about stock prices:

If you expect to be a net saver during the next five years, should you hope for a higher or lower stock market during that period? Many investors get this one wrong. Even though they are going to be net buyers of stocks for many years to come, they are elated when stock prices rise and depressed when they fall. In effect, they rejoice because prices have risen for the "hamburgers" they will soon be buying. This reaction makes no sense. Only those who will be sellers of equities in the near future should be happy at seeing stocks rise. Prospective purchasers should much prefer sinking prices.

...

So smile when you read a headline that says "Investors lose as market falls." Edit it in your mind to "Disinvestors lose as market falls -- but investors gain." Though writers often forget this truism, there is a buyer for every seller and what hurts one necessarily helps the other. (As they say in golf matches: "Every putt makes someone happy.")

In 1997, Berkshire Hathaway added Dairy Queen to the list of companies under its direction. Buffett's thoughts:

Charlie and I bring a modicum of product expertise to this transaction: He has been patronizing the Dairy Queens in Cass Lake and Bemidji, Minnesota, for decades, and I have been a regular in Omaha. We have put our money where our mouth is.

Finally, Buffett offers "A Confession" after making recent acquisitions in which the acquiring companies' shareholders generally preferred to get Berkshire stock versus being bought out with cash:

I've mentioned that we strongly prefer to use cash rather than Berkshire stock in acquisitions. A study of the record will tell you why: If you aggregate all of our stock-only mergers (excluding those we did with two affiliated companies, Diversified Retailing and Blue Chip Stamps), you will find that our shareholders are slightly worse off than they would have been had I not done the transactions. Though it hurts me to say it, when I've issued stock, I've cost you money.

Be clear about one thing: This cost has not occurred because we were misled in any way by sellers or because they thereafter failed to manage with diligence and skill. On the contrary, the sellers were completely candid when we were negotiating our deals and have been energetic and effective ever since.

Instead, our problem has been that we own a truly marvelous collection of businesses, which means that trading away a portion of them for something new almost never makes sense. When we issue shares in a merger, we reduce your ownership in all of our businesses -- partly-owned companies such as Coca-Cola, Gillette and American Express, and all of our terrific operating companies as well. An example from sports will illustrate the difficulty we face: For a baseball team, acquiring a player who can be expected to bat .350 is almost always a wonderful event -- except when the team must trade a .380 hitter to make the deal.

Because our roster is filled with .380 hitters, we have tried to pay cash for acquisitions, and here our record has been far better. Starting with National Indemnity in 1967, and continuing with, among others, See's, Buffalo News, Scott Fetzer and GEICO, we have acquired -- for cash -- a number of large businesses that have performed incredibly well since we bought them. These acquisitions have delivered Berkshire tremendous value -- indeed, far more than I anticipated when we made our purchases.

We believe that it is almost impossible for us to "trade up" from our present businesses and managements. Our situation is the opposite of Camelot's Mordred, of whom Guenevere commented, "The one thing I can say for him is that he is bound to marry well. Everybody is above him." Marrying well is extremely difficult for Berkshire.

So you can be sure that Charlie and I will be very reluctant to issue shares in the future. In those cases when we simply must do so -- when certain shareholders of a desirable acquiree insist on getting stock -- we will include an attractive cash option in order to tempt as many of the sellers to take cash as is possible.